


Lost Child

by WriteItSmall (scribblemyname)



Series: Accelerator & Last Order Fic [2]
Category: Toaru Majutsu no Index | A Certain Magical Index
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Ficlet, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29189505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/WriteItSmall
Summary: What was the point of power if no one ever stopped getting hurt?
Relationships: Accelerator & Last Order (A Certain Magical Index)
Series: Accelerator & Last Order Fic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115393
Kudos: 1





	Lost Child

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “I want to put your heart at ease. I want to regard you with kindness.” ~Akechi, London Detective Mysteria

"I found my lost child," she said, a small quiet familiar voice reaching through the maelstrom of Accelerator's blackened heart and the black, black wings sprouting from his back and his own scream wailing into the sky.

Someone else bloodied and shot before his eyes. Somebody else he failed to protect. What was the point of power if no one ever stopped getting hurt?

But that gentle voice, that sweet smile, that one person that looked at him and saw something other than a killer, her arms open.

He struck at her with his cutting wings but never hit her. No wound in his heart could overcome the memory of all her sisters bloodied for him, cut down for him, _born_ just for him to kill them. Never again, never again.

"It's okay."

She looked at him like he was worth something, like he really could stop fighting, like maybe she could love someone terrible like him.

Last Order was just a little girl, but she was already so much wiser and better than Accelerator could ever be.

He stared at her until the maelstrom quieted inside, reaching for her with hands instead of wings, and let her hold him as every part of everything he was ached for something other than this bleak and bloody life.

"Thank goodness," she murmured and held him close, the child comforting the teenager, the child protecting her protector as he let himself hold on and be held.


End file.
